.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔫'𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔡𝔢 ˖

𝐤𝐲 • 𝟐𝟕 • 𝐥𝐞𝐨 | 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐬 • 𝐤𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬-𝐢𝐧-𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞-𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧

[machveil]

König making Civilian!Reader hunt him in the woods. if you don’t find him in an allotted time period he gets to go after you instead… except he’s been silently tailing you while you aimlessly wander through the trees calling out for him. he can’t help the giddiness bubbling up his throat as he gets closer, footsteps silent until he’s looming behind you. large hands reaching up to cover your mouth, he delights in your panicked squirming as he pulls you against him

[feros-bitch]

[pedropascallme]

Every part of König gives you more reason to love him, and more cause to lust after him.

König's hands, calloused and worn, but not as rough as they might look. He tries to remember to use a hand salve—from the little tin that you gifted him—while he's on assignment, but he can never figure out the proper amount to use. When he's home, he comes to you, holding the small metal container in his hand: "bitte, mein liebe, you are much better at the lotion than I am." König's hands in yours, big and warm and soothed by the salve—not lotion, you remind him to no avail. König's hands, scarred and veiny, but so gentle despite his size. König's hands in your hair while you snuggle up next to him, pulled into his lap so that he can run his fingers over your scalp while your eyes flutter shut.

König's hands exploring every inch of your skin. König's hands running up your sides while he's buried to the hilt inside you, gripping your waist to keep you from squirming, but it's just so good, you can't help it. König's hands holding the nape of your neck so that you can’t look away from him while he pounds into your soaked cunt relentlessly. König's hands around your face, palm pressed delicately against your chin while you suckle eagerly on his thick fingers.

König's arms, muscular and bruised from being thrown against doors so often. He doesn't complain about the bruising; never seems to care about the pulsing ache that occurs when he accidentally presses against one when opening a door with his shoulder. But you coo over him regardless, and kiss the purple blotches as if your love alone might help them heal. König's arms that wrap around your waist with ease, allowing him to press himself close to you while you do even the most menial task, because he doesn't care that you need to finish dinner, he wants to hold you now, Schatz.

König's arms holding his large frame above you while he presses kisses to your neck and chest, teasing you before he gives into what you both want. König's arms caging you in on the mattress while he groans in your ear, sinking into you with a whimper. König's arms, the muscles in his forearms strained from this position but it's exactly the kind of workout he wants. König's arms that are just so perfectly situated on either side of you, you just can't help but reach up and wrap your fingers around them. And they're too big for you to get a real grip on but, god, isn’t that the point?

König's stomach and chest, softer around the edges when he's on leave. König's chest, the perfect pillow for you when you join him in bed, face buried against him and the coarse, dark hair that tickles your cheek when you nuzzle him, fingers trailing innocently down his happy trail just to appreciate the sensation. König's stomach, muscles tightening just a bit beneath your hands as you explore the warm skin of his tummy. He never understands your affection for his bulkier appearance; doesn’t get why you find something as simple as his attempts to gain muscle mass so appealing. But, then, he doesn't complain when you kiss him from collar to navel so delicately.

König’s chest heaving while you press wet kisses to it, sitting up on your knees in front of him. The muscles in his stomach pull taut while you fuck the head of his cock with your fist, no urgency to your movements. You will kill me, Schatz, he whines when your free hand splays over his stomach, your mouth finding his nipple and offering teasing kitten licks. König’s stomach, covered in his spend when he finally lets go for you, giving you another excuse to worship his body by licking him clean.

[gutsby]

X

Summary: Simon finds your G-spot.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Disgustingly loving sex (sorry). Soft dom!Simon Talks You Through It™️ Creampie. Brief mention of Reader’s insecurities w sex

Note: I’m on Instagram now (kinda), come say hi :-)

Word count: 2.1k

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried before.

You’d had your fair share of lovers and experienced more than a good deal of fun. With everyone in the past, climax came the same way, every single time: clitoral stimulation, and clitoral stimulation alone.

By this point in your life, you suspected your g-spot was probably just a figment of your imagination, no more real than Atlantis, Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

That was, until, you met your boyfriend, Simon.

And things had only been official for a week.

You and him had fooled around a handful of times—made love, as he called it, and kissed and cuddled and occasionally dry-humped until the two of you were both panting, groaning messes—but all of this was new. Simon was still learning you, as you were him.

He finished between your tits. You came on his tongue. He fingered you to the point of tears, and you learned how to touch his sac just right to get him to blow his load in seconds. On this night in particular, you were fucking missionary, and holding hands while you did.

Lovesick puppies, Price would say. Neither one of you seemed able to unglue your lips or unlace your fingers or keep your hips from colliding again and again and again in frantic search of the other’s furthest depths. You were perfectly wrapped up, with no desire to move

Except, you needed to reach down between your bodies to actually get off. That was a minor detail.

You didn’t think the man above you would mind if you moved your touch from his, but then that grip tightened the second you tried pulling away.

“Keep it there, lovie. Like holding you like this,” he said.

You enjoyed it, too. It was intimate, and sweet, and with your hands pinned on either side of you, locked securely in his, you felt safe. You just couldn’t finish.

“But I…I need to come,” you whispered against him. You rolled your hips and felt his cock twitch inside you.

Simon grunted, then swallowed. Nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I’ll get you there. Feel this?”

He slid deeper for emphasis.

You didn’t.

You rarely did, or at least not in the way you figured you were supposed to get when something pressed there.

“I think…sort of, yeah,” you hedged your answer.

Don’t bruise his ego, don’t hurt his feelings.

This is all on me, Si, I promise it’s not you.

Cutting in over your thoughts, Simon moved swiftly. Took your hips in his big, strong hands, lifted up, and plunged his cock to the hilt. The girth of him was enough to knock the air out of your lungs, and you felt your walls stretch, sting, and weep sweet liquid warmth around that intrusion. You moaned.

“Better?” The man’s question was simple.

Before you could answer it, he was sliding a pillow underneath your backside. Sawing his long, thick, leaking cock in and out of you, he reached a new spot.

You made a face, feeling good from that but…strange.

Simon snatched your hands up again and planted them beside your head on the mattress. He thrusted steadily. He peppered kisses all over your face and your neck while the bed frame squeaked in time, and you had to dig your heels into his ass to ground yourself.

“Talk to me, baby. Can’t make it better if you don’t.”

“I—I know, I just can’t—”

At the same time, Simon tilted your hips slightly once more, and the tip of his cock kissed something soft and wet and dizzyingly pleasurable inside your body. A loud, embarrassing cry slipped out between your lips.

You wanted to clap a hand over your mouth, hating the way you’d just sounded, but your fingers were stuck to his. Simon grinned down at you, toothy and approving.

“Can’t do what, now, darlin’?”

The warm, bulbous head of his cock had found its mark, and he just kept prodding that spot, like it entertained him to do it. The fingers laced between your own constricted their grip even more, and Simon leaned down to kiss you while his cock carved a mind-numbing path. In between kisses, he praised you.

“That’s my girl. She’s likin’ it now, isn’t she?”

“Feel good when my cock hits that spot?”

“Your pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby.”

But still, somehow, it just wasn’t quite enough.

Maybe you’d never found that place after all.

This was where most men gave up—after a few good minutes of fucking when their balls had gotten to be as swollen as stones and their bodies were aching for release, more often than not, they’d go off chasing their own high. That was when you usually started rubbing your clit, or waited for your partner to finish so they could get you off with their tongue or something.

You hated to feel like a burden, and you really despised the thought of being the reason your sweet Simon couldn’t get to orgasm. So you squirmed again.

Straining to reach down, to try and touch yourself, you whimpered, “Si, please, it just—it takes me too long—”

“Good thing we’ve got all night,” Simon replied bluntly.

Then, once again, he twisted your bodies like you were as soft and malleable as putty in his hands, and this time, he hitched one of your legs around his hip, high.

With one slow-rolling thrust and an audibly squelching sound, Simon’s cock stretched your hole to maximum capacity, and then a little more. Your juices leaked down his shaft, aiding the slide, and he stabbed in a few shallow strokes. Probing. Testing the waters, as if he were trying to find something hidden inside you.

You sucked in a breath. Simon’s gaze slid to yours.

“Let’s find that precious spot, lovie. Easy, now.”

Gently coaxing your body open, he drove a slow, measured pace. He split your cunt like it was the easiest thing in the world, delving within your wet, velvety heat to tease every contour and crevice of your pussy. His tip leaked precome. His balls glistened in your arousal and landed with the gentlest plap, plap, plaps while he explored your insides with his member.

It really was as simple as that, nothing more and nothing less than poking around. Having patience.

“S-Si,” you stammered, nose wrinkling slightly.

“What’s’at, baby? Got something to tell me?”

Like a teacher, almost, he pressed for more.

Like his cock was showing you something new about your body but he needed your help to tell him just how and where to find it, Simon took care to be kind. He smoothed a hand over the crown of your head and then cradled the back of it, one massive set of fingers splayed out against your skull and engulfing it wholly.

He still held onto your other hand tight.

Your cunt pulsed. Ached. Fluttered around him.

Stuffed to the brim, you had only to feel, and murmur:

“Higher.”

“Higher?”

“Um, to the…to the left.”

Simon tilted his hips left.

Yes.

That was just it. So close.

Almost…

Or, maybe…

“Maybe it just…isn’t there,” you huffed out, deflating. “Know you’re trying so hard, baby, but I think I can’t—”

Then Simon hit the same spot as before, only higher.

Just like you’d told him: to the left, and then…

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed. “Oh, fuckfuckfuck.”

The grin above you stretched even wider.

“There, lovie?” Simon goaded you on.

“Right there.” You nodded furiously.

A wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, from your core down to the soles of your feet. Your toes curled, and you squeaked, feeling Simon’s cock graze that soft, spongy, sensitive place—except he’d pushed in deeper. The sensation made your eyes roll back.

“Little dove doesn’t mind my pokin’ after all, huh?” Simon’s words were a tease, but you heard a strain in them, too. The second you were caught in the throes of real pleasure, your cunt must’ve clamped like a vice.

“Keep…keep pokin’, Si,” you choked out. “I like it.”

Your lover kept at it—poking from the inside.

The routine almost felt like losing your virginity all over again, together. Simon cradled your head, told you how good you were doing, how sweet you were for him, and you whimpered under his hold. Squirmed and clung to him for dear life, then kissed him feverishly.

Simon’s mouth was hard and hungry, his thrusts deep. His cock throbbed within the wet, clenching confines of your pussy, and he seemed to be going wild at the feeling. With the idea that he was driving you wild, too.

You realized as much when he whispered it to you.

“Could lose my bloody mind when you’re like this—” Another sharp, labored breath. Another shudder passing through his body when your insides squeezed. “—so why didn’t you talk? Ask for what you needed?”

Your voice was small. “Didn’t wanna be a bother.”

Your eyes were locked with Simon’s, and in his irises, you caught a shade of concern. It flared, hot as anything, then mixed with disbelief. Disappointment.

“Don’t be angry, Si, I—” you started, hurried.

“‘M’not.” Simon blinked. But he gritted his teeth, and he withdrew his cock until the head was bumping and teasing between your folds, then he shook his head. “It’s those fuckin’ pricks who should be sorry, yeah?”

The ones that you’d been with before.

You wanted to protest, insist that you were at least partly to blame, but you never got the opportunity.

Simon was back inside you in a blink.

Hitting that same spot again, and again, and again.

He grinned, the tic of a muscle in his jaw telling you that he was less amused this time around, but proud.

Vindicated.

“Well. It’s not like they’re ever gettin’ a chance in between these pretty legs again, are they, lovie?”

You nodded in agreement.

You smiled back at him, only to have that gentle curve falter a little when you felt Simon’s thrusts accelerate.

“Only thing that’s gonna touch this spot other’n my cock is my seed, splatterin’ all over your walls, right?”

When he gave a playful nip to your lower lip and squeezed your hand tighter, you knew that he meant it. The man had plunged so deep inside you that his pubic bone was now grinding against your skin, and the rest of him was buried. His balls, all full and warm and heavy with his release, rested firmly in your cleft.

And the steady, measured strokes of his cock landed with near-surgical precision on the G-spot you’d convinced yourself up until tonight didn’t exist.

Simon beamed. You were overcome with ecstasy.

“This it, lovie? This spot right ‘ere?” he cooed.

His cock bobbed against that gummy and indescribably dizzying place, causing your last moan to morph into something more akin to a shriek.

You nodded your head: “Y-Yes. Yes.”

“Feel good when I hit it?”

“Fucking perfect, Si.”

You sighed when the man bottomed out for what felt like the millionth time, and the pleasure never waned. He felt just as good now as he did when he first got in.

“Yeah? Gonna come on my cock then, pretty girl?”

“Yeah. I’m— I’m so close.”

“Go on then, love.”

And, shortly, you did.

Maybe three, four, five more stabs of his cock to your most precious, intimate place and you were unraveling beneath him, stars bursting in your line of vision. It seemed dramatic to say, but that was really what it came to—your mouth hanging open, eyes wide, gaze peering into Simon’s while he fucked you through the most intense orgasm of your life. You clung to him, and your walls spasmed again and again and again, milking the man’s release in the next few seconds. Simon shuddered and grit his teeth as he unloaded a thick, gooey load inside, dousing that spongy, body-numbing spot and then some. The two of you moaned in unison.

Your body was boneless, your head a hazy mess.

It took several seconds for your conscious mind to come back online fully, and when it did, Simon was leaning in again and planting kisses along your face.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, breath fanning hot across your skin. “My perfect girl. You did so good.”

You smiled and caught his mouth for a proper kiss.

“Thank you,” you murmured against him.

Then Simon squeezed your hand—the one he’d been holding this entire time. He lifted it gently, like he was afraid too rough of a movement might split you in two.

He turned your wrist and kissed the back of your hand, eyes locked on yours and expression soft while he did.

“That’s what I’m here for, lovie.”

[neptunegrieving]

smitten!konig taking off your dress after a late night party. his trembling fingers unlacing the thick strings that tie in the back, exhaling heavily when his hand can smooth down your bare back. he’s between your legs, leaning down to press a kiss to your clothed crotch. he slowly slides off the dress so it doesn’t ruin, but he presses his forehead against your stomach so he doesn’t immediately bust in his boxers seeing you undress.

[kleinexmaus]

curious on some opinions!! when your guys read könig fic, do you..

prefers if writer leaves name & physical/facial description up to reader

doesn't mind if writer chooses a name & physical/facial description

prefers no name but doesn't mind if writer chooses physical/facial description

prefers no physical/facial description but doesn't mind if writer chooses a name

Voting ended onJun 26

i know reading & writing for masked & unnamed characters can be tricky bc we all have our headcanons and someone's hc's vs your own can throw the vibes off.

i'm mainly asking for scenarios where könig is outside of the military setting, and where using a mask 24/7 and no first/last name might be hard to get by with.

this is purely out of my own curiosity! thanks for any input! 𖹭

[kleinexmaus]

《 A/N: sooooo... i may or may not have been unhealthily obsessed with AKOTSK lately (i'm writing for dunk & lyonel if you'd like to stalk me on one of my side blogs). but in light of this being heavy on my mind & HOtD premiering this sunday... have some knight!könig ('; and to everyone to replied on my last post, come get y'all juice 𖹭 》

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

• knight!könig who was orphaned as a young boy, losing his father to the battlefield and his mother to the sheer heartbreak of it. he spent most of his younger years offering his services to many lords and households throughout the kingdom in return for shelter, food, and coin.

• knight!könig who, with luck, managed to pick up swordsmanship along the way from a man who'd seen his potential. his combined skills of sword fighting and close-hand combat made him a formidable opponent during his years growing older.

• knight!könig who's skill doesn't escape the eyes and ears of the king - your father, and he's plucked from his many nights spent wandering between inns and namesakes to serve under your household as a chamber knight - specifically to look after you.

• knight!könig who, in the years of serving under your father and keeping a watchful eye on you, has grown to know you more than you know yourself. he homes in on your mannerisms - from the minute changes in your facial expressions to the slight twitch of your fingers when you're upset. he's memorized your routines second best to his own, and could follow you through them blindfolded if you asked him to.

•knight!könig who begins to struggle to keep you at arms length, falling victim to your relentless teasing and flirting. his jaw clenches beneath his helm when you feign innocence - staring up at him with wide doe eyes, and he thanks the gods above for the hardened steel of his armor that covers his twitching cock.

• knight!könig who is really quite strict with you regardless of the way you leave him aching and hard (unbeknownst to you), never letting you leave his sight and scolding you when he finds you doing something you know you shouldn't be. it leaves him confused when your cheeks flush at the stern tone of his voice, but he brushes it off as your embarrassment of being caught red-handed.

• knight!könig who gets sent away sometimes, tending to matters known only between the king and his counsel. he's gone for days on end - sometimes even weeks, leaving you under someone else's temporary care, and it makes his skin crawl. you're his responsibility, his priority, his. He can't help it when he wakes in the middle of the night after finally being allowed some sleep, cock pulsing and breeches stained with cum and the phantom touch of you. the dream is fleeting and he groans, pathetic and smitten.

• knight!könig who comes back, exhausted and adorned in the dented and cracked steel of his armor. he's unscathed save for a few bruises and a scratch here and there, but he doesn't escape your ebbing concern and prodding fingers. he won't admit it - feigning annoyance at your incessant poking at his wellbeing, but he's secretly enjoying every second of it.

• knight!könig who continues to grow impatient with you as time goes on, yet seemingly remains undeterred by your endless attempts to get a reaction out of him. he tries his hardest to ignore the innocent lilt to your voice as he stands guard at near the doorway of your quarters. 'can you help me braid my hair? my arms are tired', 'ser könig, could you help me with this dress? the lace is stuck', or 'could you stay with me for the night? i heard noises and i can't seem to fall sleep'. he sees through your antics, of course, because if not to fulfill those requests, why else would you have ladies in waiting?

• knight!könig who tries so hard to shield the ugly, brutal side of himself from your eyes. his luck falls short eventually when he hears your suprised cry from where he's taking watch in the hallway. he wastes no time - the heavy weight of the door flying open where you'd left it ajar. one of your own servants, it turns out, is kneeling above where you lay disheveled and panicked upon your bed. könig sees the knife upon your throat, the small beads of blood from where the blade had knicked your soft skin, and your frantic hands as you try to push your assailant back - and those few seconds are all it takes before he's on you.

• knight!könig who does his best to keep you focused on him and not the bloodied, tangled mess of a body that's crumpled on the floor behind him from his own blind rage. the entire castle is awake at this point, guards and chambermaids rushing about, the booming sound of your father's voice from down the hall as he demands to know what's going on. but still, könig keeps your eyes on him as you beging to settle from your panic.

• knight!könig who understands that sleep will not find you easily this night by the way your hands grab at him for reassurance and your pulse jumps in your throat. he hauls you off after exchanging words with your father, promising it's to keep you safe; but it's mostly for his own peace of mind that you stay right where he can keep his eyes on you.

• knight!könig who begins to come to terms with the chokehold you have on him, the skin prickling possessiveness and sense of protection he has over you oozing out of him in waves. it's so cloying that he could choke on it, but he decides to burn it down to a low simmer once he has you safe in his own quarters, tucked beneath the blankets of his featherbed as he continues to keep watch over you. he doesnt sleep a wink, but it's a sacrifice he's willing to make time and time again if it means you're safe where he can see you.

[kleinexmaus]

sugardaddy!könig who spoils reader in return for some company, but they both end up catching feelings

or....

knight!könig who swore his loyalties to princess!reader while continuing to struggle with how smitten he is on her

pls help... these ideas are eating me alive

[ambush-park]

Realized something goes wrong

[flytaco]

Wir hatten keine Zeit zu duschen...

[vasarosisaw]

You don’t have to show me anything, or be anyone else. If this is how you survive, at least let me fix that little wooden tail.

-BONUS-

Initial idea for the third and fourth panel :3

Hanging out

[keqikeru]

still learning

[keqikeru]

konig study sort of

[loveandcomplications]

könig smells your perfume best when his face is buried in your neck as he fucks up into you, holding your body tight against him. he'll lick, suck, and bite at your neck and the whole time his nose is taking in the scent of you. you're dangerously intoxicating.

so when he crosses you in the hallway on base and catches a whiff of that familiar scent, his blood immediately rushes to his dick. könig knows you won't have time to spare for him until the end of the day, so he has to go take care of himself before his next meeting. pathetic.

[keqikeru]

My mind wanders into ungodly places in his presence

[twolegsandbleeds]

lowkey obsessed with the idea of a usually quiet simon ‘ghost’ riley who's loud during sex. saw something which was like ‘fucking louder than the voices in our heads’ and like, yeaaaah. that's a vibe. also just… men that actually make noise when fucking you. ungff.

the first time you get him under the covers with you you're prepared for him to be one of those blokes that breathes heavily in your ear and let's out a little grunt when he cums. he's not exactly chatty - usually the most you get is a grunt or eye roll or dry comment.

but you were very, very pleasantly surprised.

he whimpers as your nails drag down his back; arching into the touch like he's chasing the pain. moans into your cunt as you grind against his tongue - actual moans that start in his chest and drag themselves out of his throat unbidden. soft, tiny gasps when you wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him slowly.

when he sinks inside you he growls; hips stuttering as your walls clamp down around him. even whilst he's fucking you he's letting words fall from his mouth and into the skin of your neck; practically narrating the entire experience like you're not also actively participating in it.

“fuck, ya feel so good love. so tight fer me. reckon if heaven fuckin' existed it's this.”

“could fucking stay here forever, yer fuckin’ perfect love.”

“yer gonna make me cum if you keep doin’ that. want that love? want me to fill yer pretty little cunt up? ‘ave me leakin’ out of you all night?”

at some point the words stop and shift into unintelligible gasps and curses; moans of your name and of a god's he doesn't believe in.

and when he actually does cum it's with a noise that you feel as much as you hear. pressing his hips flush against yours so he spills deep inside you as a cry claws its way out of him; something semi-feral that you'd think was pain if it wasn't for the way he's looking down at you with glassy brown eyes rimmed with blonde lashed and an expression of utter peace.

[ilylovelyz]

he is like this i can confirm

[konigswaifu]

König seeing you at the gym is a treat. You're on a small breather, slicking your hair back and wiping your brow. Nestled between your thighs is your water bottle.

And poor König, all he can picture is his cock rutting between them instead.

He supposes he'll have to gym another day.